


Bleue

by gaycatpark



Category: Steak (2007)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Gen, i mean it's bleue so you know, really quite tame my dudes, they gotta hit each other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-24
Updated: 2017-09-24
Packaged: 2019-01-05 00:14:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 992
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12179232
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gaycatpark/pseuds/gaycatpark
Summary: What’s better than this? Just guys being dudes… and also being passive agressive assholes to one another.





	Bleue

“127 plus 562”

Anticipation thickened the air as tension mounted between those crouched in the overgrown courtyard. A shift from Dan, a flick of the tongue from Félix. Thinking, waiting, calculating.

“Moi!” Serge chirped. He unfurled from himself, dashing around their body-made bases, boots hard against the concrete. He barely noticed the scoff from Félix as he eagerly hoisted the cube above his head.

“689!” He proudly proclaimed, trying to catch Dan’s eyes. The slight twitch of his leader’s lips told him he his answer before Max even had the chance to respond,

“Correct.”

The bat hit his stomach hard enough for him to let out a small wheeze, though Serge tried to play off the red rising in his face and the way his jaw tightened as he hissed through his teeth. Pain was the most important part of pleasure, after all.As they repositioned themselves- now with Serge at the bat- Dan lay a brief but reassuring hand on his shoulder before crouching down. Serge quickly summoned a calculation.

“761 minus 85.” Another pregnant pause. A false start from Max. Finally, Félix answered called it, running about their bases,

“676. Easy.” A nod, a whack, the familiar hiss. Such as it went. As Félix passed, Serge caught a grumbling under his breath,

“You hit like my dog.” The insult was terse, measured. Enough to cut deep without angering enough to warrant response. Serge did not react. Besides, Danny had just come up beside him, one arm around his shoulders, the other offering him his bottle of milk as congratulations. The ice in Félix’s eyes was revenge enough. Serge knew how much Félix wanted Dan’s affections- who wouldn’t? Their leader exuded their creed in his every moment, perfect inside and out. Every word, every touch, every calculated look. Yes, Dan was perfect.

And Dan was his.

He, dear, sweet Serge, had always been Dan’s favorite; Dan’s darling. And though Félix boiled and raged, the surly boy knew better than to do anything about it. After all, that was not how Chivers behaved. And so they played their little game.

 

* * *

Several rounds passed as the sun dipped lower in the horizon, painting the air gold. Soon it would be time to pack up and make their way to the milk bar. Félix was up to bat.

“100 plus 20.” An unusually easy question. Max and Dan hesitated, as if they had perhaps heard wrong. Serge however, was more than happy to call it. He ran, lifting the cube above him. The sun haloed him in exuberance.

Then came the hit.

The paddle landed lower than it should have, and crooked, connecting with his hip instead of his stomach. Félix had not held back, leaning into the swing with all his strength, sending Serge sprawling.

No, Félix could not do anything openly to Serge, but accidents happen all the time.

Several terrible moments passed where Serge could not breathe, then all at once his lungs greedily sucked in air, loud and sputtering as he rolled onto his side. He clutched himself, trying to choke back the urge to vomit and the terrible waves of nauseating pain that radiated from his pelvic. Tears found their ways out from his eyes, though Serge tried to blink them away.

Félix dropped to his side, his voice sincere as he asked if Serge was okay. His eyes, however, told another, much more glee-filled story. Serge wanted to knock the smug look right off his face, but pain and fear of upsetting Dan stopped him. After all, that was not how Chivers behaved.

Dan also dropped to Serge’s side, helping him to sit up. He cupped his face, asking rather nonchalantly if he were alright. The touch conveyed his sympathy enough, and Serge nodded even though he felt only seconds away from hurling. Perhaps sensing the facade, Dan dismissed Max and Félix, telling them to meet them at the bar. There came a sour, stealthy glance from Félix as he left the court. Serge practiced steady, wavering breaths as the roar of engines filled the air, then faded to silence.

“Are you okay?” Dan asked. He still clung to his air of practiced perfection, though concern had managed to creep into his voice this time.

“Yeah. I’m fine. Really.” Serge insisted, despite his wincing as he shifted. Dan patted his cheek.

“You’re a tough one.” He commented, and Serge felt himself grow warm. Dan straightened up, holding a hand out and helping Serge to his feet. His small affections when they were alone, while perhaps outwardly almost no different than how he treated Serge when the rest were present, still spoke deeply to the care he felt. Or so Serge hoped- Dan’s constant measured moves made it near impossible to tell exactly how he felt, even after all this time.

However, tonight something happened.

In the same fluid movement he used to pull Serge to his feet, Dan pulled him close and pushed the hair from his face. The contact was brief, no more than a mere brush, but Dan leaned in and softly kissed Serge’s forehead. The color rose in Serge’s cheek and he stood speechless for a moment, staring wide-eyed at Dan. In turn, Dan smirked and cocked his hip.

“Did Félix knock out your voice as well?”

“N-no. I’m fine, really.”

Dan nodded, bending to pick up his nearly empty milk bottle.

“Then we should get going, shouldn’t we?”

Serge nodded, then added a small, “yes.” Dan clapped an arm around his shoulder, pulling him in close as they crossed the courtyard. Serge could smell his sweat against the sour of milk. A lovely scent, really.

“Good game,” Dan smiled, “by my accounts, you won. Beat Félix by a landslide.”

Serge thought about it, about the pain still throbbing in his abdomen and the buzzing of his forehead where Dan’s lips has graced him, soft and sweet. He returned the smile,

“I suppose I did.”

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this between 2-4am and it shows. Maybe I'll edit it someday.


End file.
